Yet, Again
by CoriRedde
Summary: Everyone has heard of Maka Albarn and Soul Eater. Everyone knows they had the most legendary resonance between students. But I know they broke themselves, I know Maka Albarn refuses to wield her weapon. I thought they were apart forever...but when I saw fate force them fight together again, I knew what I think that man Soul Eater always did: They were meant to be. Language. Sex.


**Because this story is an experiment of sorts, I ask that you leave a review to let me know what you think of the outsider view I have in this story. Thank you.**

**If you came just for the sex, skip to part five. LOL.**

**BACKGROUND: In the case that something crazy happened between Soul and Maka and they 'break up' so to speak, because they're both stubborn fools, this is my take on what could happen.**

**Enjoy, and please review! (Note: asking for more is a bit moot because this is a OneShot.)**

Yet, Again

A Soul Eater FanFiction

CoriRedde

_**Summary: **__Everyone has heard of Maka Albarn and Soul Eater. Everyone knows they had the most legendary resonance between students. But I know they broke themselves, I know Maka Albarn refuses to wield her weapon. Until a mission with Maka Albarn, I thought they were apart forever...but when I saw fate force them fight together again, I knew what I think that man Soul Eater always did: They were meant to be. Rated for language and sex. OneShot._

**I.**

"Hey, Keagan!" I lean back to peer around my locker door. Running down the hallway toward me is my partner, his long pony-tail flying behind him. He smiles, breathing hard as he reaches me.

"What's got your panties in a bunch, Mace?" He laughs, pulling open his own locker. He shoves his backpack inside carelessly. I hear the crunch of school work being smashed as he slams the door shut.

"We had a schedule switch, Kea," he announces, shoving the bulletin into my face. It kind of hurts my nose, but I won't object to any contact with him.

"So we've got double Stein now or something?" I tease, punching his shoulder for good measure, "No wonder you're so excited!" Mason tugs one of my many red braids in retaliation. I swat his hand away and close my locker.

"No!" He pouts. His fear of Professor Stein is no secret among this year's Spartoi. His smile turns lecherous, "It's two periods of Maka Albarn and her legs!" He sags against his locker, eyes closed, "What I'd give to have legs like those around me." Here at Shibusen, that woman's legs are legend.

I laugh a little, but it's weak. Excuse me for being a short Irish girl. He cracks his eyes open at me, smirking at my angry, red face.

"Before you clash too much with your hair," he defends, holding up his hands, "I'd like you to know that I find red hair very sexy." I hit him for real this time, knocking his ski goggles into his face. Why he wore those around his neck I will never understand. Sometimes I imagine if I ever wanted to kiss him they'd be great leverage to pull him to me. Damn, I'm such a lovesick puppy.

"C'mon, bastard," I call as I walk away toward the gym. Hopefully he won't notice how much his comment about my untamable hair messes with my head and stains me with a whole body blush. "It's embarrassing if my short legs beat you there!" I'm feeling pretty good about myself for that comment. Trust him to burst my bubble.

"Pipsqueak." The voice comes from right beside me. Damn his long legs. "I never said your legs were short, just that you are."

Is he asking to get hit? "Whatever Mason." Regardless, he still slings an arm over my shoulders and walks me all the way to the locker room doors. Then he leans in really close to my face, hands on my shoulders. Is he going to kiss me?

Yes, yes, _yes..._

"By the way," he says slowly, "You have cinnamon on your lip still." Fuck 'em, really.

"Want a taste?" I ask teasingly, throwing on the Irish accent full force. He had told me he liked it once. From my flirting (I gave myself a pat on the back for that comment), I may have blushed again, but I won't admit it. He seems to consider it; I start having heart palpitations.

"Tempting, Keagan." He flicks my nose. "But maybe you should save it for a snack later." Then he walks away into the boys' changing room. I groan before turning and entering the girls' changing room.

"I saw that," a friendly voice says next to me as I pulled my shirt over my head.

"There was nothing to see," I sigh, shrugging into my sports bra and gym shirt, "And hey, Faith." The ridiculously tall African girl laughs, cutting a string off her shirt with her finger-turned-spearhead.

"Hey, Irish," she responds belatedly. "Ready for this double period?" I grin widely, punching a fist into a hand.

"Damn straight, I am." I put a feral spin in my voice.

"Girl, are you sure you're not Scandinavian?" She jokes as we exit the locker room.

"You mean Helga here?" The low voice of Mason interrupts our joking. He swings his arm at a parallel line to the floor, clearing my head by a good four inches. "Not nearly tall enough." I stomp on his foot. He ruffles my hair. "Vicious enough though, I see your point."

"Let's go, Faith and Useless," I order, "I sense Dwayne outside, Miss Spear." Her eyes brighten. I don't blame her. Dwayne has a god's body, and they're dating. Lucky bitch.

That familiar arm is slung over my shoulders again. He does this to watch me blush, I swear. However, I won't complain as we step onto the training grounds.

"You're getting really good at that," Mason says randomly.

My ever-so-intelligent answer consists of, "Huh?"

He pets my head again. "Tapping my wavelength." His explanation reminds me of the past two minutes in which _I_ informed Faith of the location of her meister.

"Are you complimenting me?" I ask, peering at him through scrutinizing eyes.

"Second one today," he confirms, "Damn, I'm losing my touch."

A whistle blows.

Every student on the grounds whips around toward the source of the sound.

And there she is: Maka Albarn.

Basically, I worship her. She's the one who defeated the kisshin Asura about a decade back, was the youngest meister to create a Death Scythe (not to mention she had to get the 99 souls twice), and is now the weapons master at Shibusen. She's a devil with a wooden _stick_, no joke, and not to mention hot. Mason tells me I'd go lesbian for her if she asked. Thinking about it, I don't think I've ever denied that comment.

I hope I turn out as fortunate as her. I've seen pictures of her when she was the leader of the one of the two factions that made up Spartoi's first generation. She was always pretty, but now...there's no comparison. _That_ was apparent enough as I followed Mason's eyes to her ass. Somewhere along the line, double period gym meant Instructor Albarn wears spankies. Seriously, she must not know how hot she really is.

"Alright, listen up!" Maka Albarn calls out. It is pretty much unnecessary, all the girls love her and pay close attention because we want to be like her, all the guys love her class and have had a fantasy about her at some point (or so my lovely bastard partner tells me).

"Today we get double period together," she announces, a smile on her face, "So I'm fully prepared to kick all your asses into gear!" The class laughs nervously at this. "Let's start with laps, shall we?"

Amidst the chorus of groans, Mason and I look at each other, grinning. If there was only one thing I could describe us to be, I'd choose fast. I know Mace agrees with me. My weapon form only helps with that: I'm built for speed and accuracy.

"I'll be nice," Maka Albarn continues, "One mile followed by four quarter mile intervals. Break up into four groups." At the beginning of the year when instructor Albarn had given us this instruction, we had all stared awkwardly at each other until she got fed up and broke us up into groups herself. The woman isn't very patient. Now, Mace, Faith, Dwayne, and I have already started on the mile, the second team starting when we get a quarter of the way around the track. A fifth set of feat join my little squad of four.

"Instructor Albarn!" I greet happily, showing a wide smile.

"How are you, Keagan?" She asks me. I laugh a little.

"I'm good," I respond, changing my pace to match her perfectly, "Sorry we haven't dropped by lately." By this I am referring to this new rule Lord Death put in place that top meister and Weapon teams must have a staff member to whom they can discuss any wavelength alignment issues or questions about resonance or anything that could improve them as a team. There are only three choices of instructors for this, Professor Franken Stein, Master Death the Kid, and Instructor Maka Albarn. Only they are qualified for their Soul Perception abilities. The members of Spartoi were all matched by wavelength to instructors. I am eternally grateful to be put in the care of Maka Albarn. She has the strongest Soul Perception out of the three, and she has a grigori soul. That doesn't really do anything to our lessons with her, but it's cool. However, I have never seen her special soul in action. I know it requires a Death Scythe partner to work and my idol...well, she doesn't have a partner anymore.

"Speaking of we," Maka Albarn continues, switching her gaze to my partner, "What's going on with you, Mason?"

"Nothing new to report, Teach," he says, "Still stuck at that same gap as before." Our instructor glances down for a second. I know she is thinking about the secrets she knows but we keep from each other that cause us to not reach the final stage of Soul Chain: constant resonance.

"Stop by my office tonight then," Instructor Albarn tells us, looking at me specifically, "We'll talk about it, ok?" Mace and I nod enthusiastically. Ok, so maybe we both basically worship her. "But I can see you are getting very good at sharing wavelengths. Careful not to draw his energy too much when you tap into his soul perception, Keagan." I am amazed she recognizes that much with a glance. I know she is amazing, but seeing it in person wows me every time. Again, I find myself wondering what seeing her in battle with a Weapon would be like.

"Yes ma'am!" Then she sprints on ahead to chat up the fourth group.

Mace and Dwayne whistle. Then they laugh. Faith and I are stuck with jealous glares. Faith, however, gets to turn her glare in a mischievous smirk as she stares at her boyfriend. Her brand of punishment could make even the Thompson Sisters blush (I met them once...Instructor Albarn shooed them away before they could scar me further). What can I say? She's a freak.

"You're slacking, Shorty!" I hear. I snap out of my thoughts to feel Mason's hand on my elbow pulling me ahead.

"Race you!" I shout. And then the cries of Faith and Dwayne for us to wait up are drowned out by the wind and our laughter. As I stated, we are fast. We race each other through the intervals, Maka Albarn even joining us on the third one. I am proud to say I raced her, but not humble enough to admit I, well... at least Mason lost too.

"Who knows what's next?" Instructor Albarn asks rhetorically, "Sparring!" I look around at my classmates to watch them start sizing each other up. I watch Maka Albarn do the same thing to every person in the class, her gaze lingering on the Spartoi faction of the class, a.k.a. me and the people around me.

"Everyone gets full marks for today," Instructor Albarn announces from her spot a little ahead of all of us. Everyone cheers but me. I know better. There's totally a 'but' in that statement.

"_If,"_ she continues. Or an if, whatever, I was close. "The winner of this round robin tournament we are about to start can knock me down." More cheering. I'm pretty sure everyone knows this is basically impossible, but the thought of beating Maka Albarn fires any DWMA student up. "So let's beg-"

"Maka-chan!"

The call comes from the back steps of the school building. Standing there is Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, her long skirt with the slit up the side blowing in the wind, and Black*Star of the Star Clan, the sheen of sweat on his huge muscles glistening in the sun. Some of the girls in my class swoon. Black*Star is the one who had yelled.

"Black*Star," Maka Albarn says, her eye brow twitching, "I know we are the best of friends, but," she chucks a book clear across the grounds and it embeds itself in the famous assassins skull, "COULD YOU NOT INTERRUPT MY CLASS?" And then there's the "Maka-Chop", an infamous attack that involves a book from out of nowhere and a victim's skull. If I could master that...

"Soomi-massen,"Miss Nakatsukasa says, looking down at her partner twitching on the steps. Ok, I know that's not really what she said, but it sounded like it to me. I don't speak Japanese.

"You're not really supposed to interrupt either, Tsubaki," Maka continues, still glaring at the blue-haired meister the tall Japanese weapon had left behind as she approached my idol. Miss Nakatsukasa's face gets very serious.

She leans into Maka Albarn's ear and whispers something that a) I couldn't have caught because they were too far and b) I couldn't have understood if I'd wanted to. Again, I speak nothing but English. Lame, I know. I do, however, notice Instructor Albarn's eyes get very wide and an excitement flare in her that I know I've never seen before.

"What are they talking about?" I ask Mace, leaning into his shoulder. I feel his shrug. I watch the exchange and then, to my horror, listen to my idol call out Black*Star. I think my stomach is somewhere in my left big toe.

"Black*Star," she says in her instructor voice, "I was about to let these kids have a round robin tournament. Supervise for me, will you?"

Suddenly, the downed assassin is on his feet, a maniacal grin stretched across his face. Tsubaki nods; I assume this is her message to Instructor Albarn saying she'll supervise her partner, but when the blonde takes off running I'm not so sure. My partner next to me is scratching his head.

"This is an interesting development," he murmurs, his head falling down on top of mine as he takes his turn to lean on me. I get this prickly feeling he is not talking about Maka Albarn at all.

Curiousity killed the cat. "What is?"

"You are wearing a red and gold sparkle cheetah print bra," Mace responds.

And I _die_ of embarrassment. I know my face resembles a cherry (or my bra, if Mace has his way), but when I look up to yell for Instructor Albarn to please take care of my partner, I slump.

The doors to the academy were swinging shut, Maka Albarn already on her way to whatever Miss Nakatsukasa had told her to do.

"Alright, peasants!" Black*Star shouts, jerking a thumb at himself, "I am the man will surpass God and this is my girlfriend! If like your dick, keep your eyes off 'er!" The boys trembled, "Now, let's get this started and maybe I will allow you the pleasure of being one of my disciples!"

_Miss Maka...I do not want to be here with Black*Star._ I think is selfishly, internally grimacing at the thought of having to spar with that mass of muscle on muscle.

_I hear ya, sister._ I jump a little as Mace's voice resounds in my head. He's opening a resonance link that I automatically reach for.

_Transform? _He requests. I grin.

White flashes around the field as all the Weapons take their battle forms. _Oh, hell yeah._

**II.**

"You're getting there," Miss Maka praises us, leaning back in her desk chair, "Soon you'll get your souls so intertwined you won't know whose feeling is whose." Mason and I flinch.

"Shit," he says, "Does that mean I'll PMS?" Maka laughs. My eyebrows rise. Maybe it's because she had used her own soul to help coax ours together, but I have finally noticed what is wrong with her smile. It is a sad smile.

I mean that as in her smile is a fail. It never touches her eyes. Then I realize I have never seen any other smile on her in person. The only real smile I have seen on Miss Maka is in pictures of her that are scattered around the school. I realize her laugh is hollow too.

Next to me, Mason gives me a look. It meant shut-up-your-brain-you're-depressing-me. Thanks for the support and idiocy, Useless.

"You two are free to leave. Practice matching your intentions throughout the day and we'll meet up next week at eight to discuss your progress, ok?" She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and stands. Mace does too; I can hear his stomach growling. That is my fault. I ran us out of our apartment before he could make anything for dinner. Yes, he. I can burn water. Mason is out the door when I finally speak up.

"Miss Maka," I start, fiddling with my fingers a little, "Could I stay and talk with you for a few minutes?"

She looks at my face closely. "Sure, I've got instant Ramen and tea. Sound good?" I nod happily.

"I'm out, Euro Cup finals on DVR." When he has gone and Maka Albarn has shut the door, I gulp.

"So, what's going on, Keagan?" She crosses back to her desk, pulling out two cups of instant Ramen and tea packets. I watch her hands as she prepares the non-frozen TV dinner.

"W-well..."

She stops suddenly. "You know what?" She puts her hands on her hips, leaning down a little to peer at me still in my seat. "Call me Maka, just for now. I can sense a embarrassment, curiousity, and I daresay a little fear in your wavelength." I smile sheepishly. Shoulda known I can't hide anything from the strongest soul reader alive (yet another reason why I idolize her).

"It's more comfortable to talk to friends than teachers, right?"

"R-right, Maka." It feels unnatural to say her name. She is important, deserves respect. I, a mere student, have no right to address her so informally. Though she has said friend. The microwave dings.

"Scoot your chair closer to the desk," she offers kindly, "Less chance of spilling, hmm?" I do so, taking a deep breath as I went.

"So, tell me," Maka says, playing with her food on the end of her fork, "Why are you here?" The question is blunt, but I expect nothing less from her.

"Y-you see, I-" I stand up suddenly. What am I doing? "Why don't you smile?"

Pause.

O, God. I just yelled in her face with Ramen breath, didn't I?

Maka's eyes lower and she sets down her fork. "So you noticed."

I blink. Huh?

"Did you ever wonder why I take such interest in you and Mason?" This is followed by yet another blink from me.

"Uh, I guess," I say, unsure, "I mean, I just figured all of Spartoi had some sort of guidance factor or something. I thought everyone from Spartoi got their lessons from their assigned teacher and we all are interesting subjects to our teachers. I mean, aren't you interested in your other students?"

She chuckles a bit. "No, that's just me and you and your partner."

I sit back down, biting at my lip. Why us? We aren't the best (yet). No death scythe, no three-star meister, we are...only a little higher than average. So I ask the impending.

"Why?"

She doesn't answer at first, which kind of annoys me. She started this conversation, hadn't she? And now she doesn't want to talk about it and I am losing my mind. Maka finishes her Ramen and takes a sip of her tea. It's been five minutes, now. My own dishes are empty. I almost expect her to ask me to leave when she looks at me again. Her stare, though pointed in my direction, is not focused on me. Yet it freezes me in place and I couldn't have left even if she'd asked.

"It's because you remind me of us."

Now my whole state of frozen is taken to a new level as I forget how to breathe. Maka, Maka-fuckin'-Albarn is comparing me and lowly Mace to _herself _and _Soul Eater._ Omg, omg, omg...

"I'm sorry, how?" Ok, now I'm laughing. It's out of disbelief and a little elation, but it sounds so rude. I mentally hit myself.

Maka doesn't seem to notice. Her gaze is far away. "You both are so talented, so driven, so opposite yet so much the same. I don't want it to go to waste." I'm not laughing anymore.

I am scared to ask the next question, but I do, because it's crawling up my throat and moving my mouth before I notice. "What happened to you? To Death Scythe Soul Eater?"

Everyone at Shibusen knows of Maka Albarn and Soul Eater. Their resonance is legendary. Everyone also knows that Soul Eater is not here anymore. Well, he's not dead, but he's far away on Death Scythe business. But something happened between them, something that tore them apart. That much is apparent to me now. It isn't uncommon for partners to stay together as a team for the rest of their career under Lord Death; it is not uncommon for partners of Death Scythes to take a new partner to create another Death Scythe. Maka Albarn has not taken another partner.

"What happened?" I ask quietly again.

"Did you know," Maka says instead, "That weapon blood can lay dormant for long enough for someone to become a meister?"

I shake my head, utterly confused. Weapons and meisters can't be in one body. That is when you get a kisshin Asura or death. Or both, by default.

"Did you ever wonder why I never took another partner?" I'm speechless. She's answering questions with questions. I'm smart, but the genius here is her, and frankly, I won't be able to keep up wiht her genius talk.

Then her arm turns into a glittering green blade in front of my eyes.

"Th-that's...amazing!" I'm excited. This is...she's like the eighth world wonder or something.

"He felt threatened by this. He was my weapon, I am not anyone's weapon, not even my own." Her voice is quiet, nostalgic. I'm entranced, tears slipping down my cheeks as I imagine a world without Mason. It hurts. She lives it.

"I thought it was perfect. He wouldn't have to protect me anymore, there would be no more scars on behalf of my life." I'll admit, I have no idea what she's talking about when she says scars, but I watch her run a finger across her left collar bone. "He didn't want tha-"

"It's a weapon's duty to protect their meister!" I blurt out, then slap a hand over my mouth. I thought Maka would be mad. Instead, she seems even sadder and smaller.

"It's not at the risk of their own life." She says it with a bitter tone. "He wanted to prove to me that regardless of what I thought, he needed me and I needed him. We-" She stops again, thinking over next words. I can fill in the blanks in my head. Something happened between them that resulted in a fight.

"I told him I didn't need him anymore," she finishes, "I was young. I thought I knew everything. I didn't want to remember that everything we had done, we'd done together." She's crying silent tears that roll onto her thin looking wrists. "He thought if he told me he loved me, I would reconsider. We spent one night together-" I flinch. My mind is replaying everything the guys ever told me about wanting to sleep with Maka Albarn. Images... "And I can see that makes you uncomfortable. Well, that scared me. I have umm...a bit of an issue with guys." She laughs nervously, and I see her as a teenager for a quick moment. I see her broken heart. I realize that if Mason was trying to prove something like this to me and I was caught up in the moment...I would do the same thing.

Why hadn't I seen this before? I'm with her almost every week with Mason as she teaches us to match our wavelengths and coaches any misunderstandings out of us. How had I missed the utter emptiness and hatred she feels toward herself? The complete inability to let anyone inside blows me away.

I knew she and Soul Eater had been the strongest team to ever graduate from Shibusen after being together all years, and I knew he wasn't around. But I did not know they were no longer a team. I did not know they had broken themselves apart. I did not know that it was Maka who had split from him.

"I read in a school newspaper," I say to break the silence, "that no one could beat you two in a fight, no matter how many or how powerful."

"No one but ourselves." She confirms it with a shake of her head.

"So I noticed," I say, repeating the words she had said earlier. "I won't let this happen to me and Mason." I'm convinced I can prevent it.

"I know you won't."

I leave then, running back to my best friend and crush. We would not be a Soul Eater and Maka Albarn. I'd make sure of it. However my brain is on overload. Maka Albarn and Soul Eater are the strongest pair...yet they are no longer a pair. I wonder if they can ever be repaired.

**III.**

I stand with all of Spartoi on the training fields. We had been called from class and told to meet here during first hour. All of us wear identical expressions: anxiety and excitement. Mason has a good grip on my hand that doesn't seem to be letting up soon.

"Is everyone here?"

The voice is Instructor Albarn's. The woman herself radiates excitement and fire. I think everyone there feels a little like a spark from a roaring bonfire. Her face is determined.

"Yes, Instructor," Faith says when it's apparent no one else will. I'm impressed she is able to speak under the amazing presence of Maka Albarn.

"Good," the weapon's master says, "I have excellent news."

She pauses for dramatic effect. I almost pee myself in anticipation.

"We are going to Brazil for this generation Spartoi's first all member assignment!" Somehow, the twelve of us manage to make a cheer everyone in Death City could hear. I definitely participated in making that racket. Brazil! That's crazy! We are really becoming the elite fighting force! I'm not surprised to see Instructor Albarn standing there looking proud but not smiling.

"Quiet down!" She calls, and all is silent. Have I mentioned the power this woman has over her students?

"I'm going to give some mission details," she explains, "Then you are all to go home and dress in your mission outfit, pack one relaxing outfit that can be used as pajamas, and grab a toothbrush. Our flight is at six tonight." I think my eyes almost fall out of my head. So soon! Maka doesn't seem bothered by it at all, so I assume this is the norm for missions, but it still takes a minute to get my head around.

"Each duo may carry one backpack between them," she continues, "We will stay there overnight tomorrow night. Our mission is to take out a pack of kisshin eggs. The estimated total is somewhere between eighty-five and one-hundred." Mason grins wickedly next to me. I can feel his excitement rolling off him in waves. Of course, the link between us only makes it easier to feel.

"I am this trip's supervisor," Instructor Albarn finishes, "And you know I do not tolerate silliness in the field. Now, get your asses in gear and go!" We are all up and running immediately to our respective homes. I remember pulling on my mission outfit first before admiring it in the mirror for a good five minutes.

"Hey, Kea, you done- whoa." What do you know, I'm already blushing.

"Wh-what?" I say, smoothing my jacket.

"You look good, Killer," Mason says, stepping into the bathroom to check his tie in the mirror. I return to checking myself out. My coat is shamelessly modeled after Maka Albarn's, but paired with pants and no undershirt. I have cleavage to flaunt and a meister to seduce.

"Not so shabby, yourself, Sir," I say back. We stand together for a moment, hands somehow back together and uniforms proudly worn. We look...cute.

"Ready?" Oh, damn, is it six already?

The flight is long. I guess that makes sense if we are traveling from Nevada to Brasil. During the flight, Mason and I are silent. We communicate with feelings over our link. I relay to him what I learned last night with Instructor Albarn...Maka. I also observe her during the flight. I watch her hands flex on the arm rest for the seat next to her. She looks surprised as she notices that no one is next to her. The expression old habits die hard come to mind.

"Instructor Albarn?" I whisper as we begin our descent, "How are you going to fight?" She looks at me, that same determination on her face.

"I will fight with my soul," she responds, curling her hands into claw shapes, "If worse come to worse, well, you saw what I can do last night." I am reassured for the moment. I lean back in my seat.

_Are you ready? _I send the message, complete with strength, to Mason.

He's smirking at me, _Are you?_

Maka Albarn is the only one exuding a calm air as we leave the airport and head to a small, nearby hotel. The rest of Spartoi is a jittering bundle of nerves and sharp edges, our energy bouncing along our links between meister and Weapon and amplifying it. Maka marches us out into the humidity after we leave our bags behind in our shared rooms.

"Ok, listen up!" She shouts. We are walking toward the battlefield, entering the forest. All of our heads buzz with the sensation of kisshin eggs swarming around in a clusterfuck. "As soon as the first pre-kisshin is spotted, I want all weapons in weapon form. Weapons are not to return to human form until I announce the all clear." A clearing opens up as we cross through a small steam. The ground is sopping wet, moss and mud and rain flying all around from just our walking. Butterflies have made an uncomfortable home in my stomach. Mason grips my hand, giving and taking comfort from me.

There's a large howl. One by one, moving with deadly grins and sharpened killer instincts displayed, kisshin eggs move out to face us.

"Keagan, transform!" And then a modern bow is in his hands. He loads and arrow with his Soul Energy. I rearrange it into a deadly projectile. He pulls back and aims. Yes, I am a bow. If you ask me, it's pretty fuckin' sweet. All around us, humans become Weapons and resonance rates climb high.

I feel something weird on the edge of Mason's soul perception. I see Maka Albarn with her face scrunched in a curious expression. Worry and adrenaline. Something is wrong.

Blue energy the color of clear skies sparks around the field. It's Maka Albarn's soul wavelength brought to physical form. I'm awed; I can feel Mace is too.

"Spartoi," Maka Albarn calls, "Let's go!"

Together, Mason and I release the arrow into the heart of one of the kisshin. Both of us wonder: _Instructor, what's wrong?_

**IV.**

This battle sucks.

All of us, including Maka Albarn, are soaked to the bone with mud, dew, and stinking water. I have officially moved 'visit the Amazon rainforest' from my bucket list to my 'never do this again' list. I am exhausted, my arms ache from being drawn so many times, my body complaining from the strain of maintaining this form. I feel like we've been fighting forever; in reality, it has only been an hour. The kill count now stands at thirty-six with all of our combined efforts. The starting total had been one hundred and three. Maka Albarn is not participating in the fighting, according to her, this is our war.

_Left,_ I scream to Mason, _Ten o'clock! _I feel another spike of energy in my hands and form a bow. The arrow is fired in the next nanosecond, driving straight through a kisshin egg's head. Every member of Spartoi had entered Soul Resonance long ago, connecting with other team members when necessary.

One and a half hours in, fifty-two are dead and the battle is slowing tipping to our favor. Then, I feel in my own soul Mason's movements stop. He bends over, collapsing to his knees.

"Mace!" I scream, staying in my weapon form. His hand is still around me. "Mace, what's wrong?"

He coughs, "Soul Perception." He grits it out. In an instant I've reached into his mind, looking for whatever is causing him pain in his sixth sense. When I feel it, I realize we are seconds behind.

Maka Albarn is already moving.

"Everyone get back!" She screams, crashing through the kisshin eggs like they weren't there. Every one she passes explodes. I am in shock, or maybe Mason is. I'm not sure, we've been resonating for so long we've forgotten where one person starts and the other begins. Either way, we've never seen this attack before.

"BACK!" She orders again. Everyone is sprinting toward her, weapons raised to fend off anything that tries to stop them. I am breathing hard. Mason is breathing hard. Or whatever. We are all at a river edge now. Mason wiggles his toes inside his boots. I feel the mush of mud and water.

The kisshin eggs are all around us, approaching from the east. The river is at our west.

Maka raises a hand. "Soul Force: SHIELD!" Blue energy crackles from her palm, expanding and snapping around us. Kisshin eggs bounce from it singed but not dead.

"Listen," our instructor shouts, voice still surprisingly calm, "This situation is far too out of hand. I will take on this fight now. All of you retreat to the hotel. Do not remain in this fight." I had heard tales of Miss Marie Mjolnir telling her students that only for them not to listen. Maka Albarn had no such problem.

"What's going on?" Dwayne demands, his breathing harsh. Blood drips from a gash above his eye. Maka Albarn looks at my meister.

"Mason, tell him."

Mace swallows thickly, forcing the nausea that had dropped him earlier away. "There are another hundred heading this way...they can- they smell the blood." Spartoi gasps, despair potent in our souls. How did this happen? Why aren't we good enough? Who would fight?

"But, what about you, Instructor Albarn?" Mason asks my question.

"I'm going to kill these bastards and take a shower. Got a problem?"

I crack a grin, so does Mason. So does everyone else. I think it's relief that manages to put those grins on our faces. We would be okay. Maka Albarn's sincerity leaves no room for doubt that by herself she will take on every pre-kisshin here and come out victorious.

"GO!"

And we're running. The meisters all stop at a thick area of trees and simultaneously decide to pause here for a moment. Us weapons return to human form. There is enough blood for yet another human on the ground around us. Desperately, I tear at my clothes and Mason's, trying to make bandages that can hold until we return to the hotel for medical attention. The Weapons around me follow my lead. The meisters all slump to the ground.

"Let's wait here a little," Mason suggests, "Just until there is an opening for us to run." There are nods of agreement all around.

We turn and watch.

The hordes of kisshin-eggs attacking our instructor all burn as she releases her shield and more of her wavelength. The front lines die; red, evil souls float along the ground. Maka leaps up, her heals crashing through another one of the monsters. One jumps at her. She pumps a wavelength into it and uses the things own body to kill two more pre-kisshin. They are dying rapidly around her. I can't tear my eyes away.

How does one meister (who has weapon blood, yet isn't using it) defeat these things like they're made of smoke?

She whirls, her jacket flapping in exagerated movements as her kick blocks and oncoming attack. With a sparking fist, she punches through the head of a kisshin-egg. She crouches down and pushes off the ground hard. Another kisshin jumps up with her. It dies. She lands. Another dies. She's panting hard, but she looks exhilarated.

"Come on!" She challenges. "Your souls are mine!" Spartoi is shocked to silence when scythe blades burst from her hands and elbows. She spins, blades catching on a kisshin-egg in every direction. They are torn to pieces. She kicks wide left, a blade on her ankle. It interlocks with the clawed fingers of a monster. Maka bends forward. A blade explodes from her spine. The kisshin-egg dies. The weapons master leaps _through _the dissentegrating corpse of the pre-kisshin and flips in midair. Scythes from her ankles chop off the heads of two pre-kisshin on either side of her. Her feet touch the thick trunk of a tree and she pushes backwards, flying back through the gathering evil souls. The rubber band holding her hair up snaps and long, blonde locks fall loose. She's gorgeous when she fights.

Then, to my horror, I see an oncoming attack that Maka will not be able to stop with her momentum already flying backwards out of the way of an explosion she just caused.

"Keagan, quick!" And despite his bloodied body, Mason is standing.

"Right!" I leap up into his waiting hands. He strings an arrow and pulls back.

CRASH!

We freeze. Spartoi looks with renewed awe at the battlefield. A new presence is swinging in, slicing through the kisshin eggs it passes on its motorcycle with a red and black blade. A new meister?

No, I'm wrong. The blade is his arm. This is a weapon.

The weapon leaps from his bike, allowing the machine to run itself into a tree and crushing a few kisshin egg. The weapon lands beside Maka, the two partly transformed scythes taking a moment in time together as they look at each other.

White hair and a leather jacket. Soul Eater.

Well, fuck me sideways.

"Soul!" Maka screams, blades disappearing. "What the hell are you doing here?" Neither of them seem to notice how the hordes of kisshin eggs are gathering around them. I gape at them as they _casually _slice through everyone that gets too close, blades extending and retracting too fast for the eye to follow.

The man smirks, grabbing one of the previously slain kisshin egg souls and swallowing it. "Lord Death sent me." We, the members of Spartoi, look at each other with uncertainty. I know we are all following the same thought pattern. There is a tug on my mind. I look to Mason. Our minds open and collide, thoughts mixing.

_...Lord Death sent a Death Scythe...out of control...we need to...but what if...a fuckin' Death Scythe!...Keagan...Mace...Let's go._

Mason turns to the rest of the group up us and releases me from my weapon form. The shouting between the two impressive adults fighting seems to fade as I watch my meister carefully. There's just so much blood...

"Everyone," he says. His voice vibrates with authority. It's low and I imagine if I wasn't so scared and exhausted I'd be blushing and rubbing my legs together.

The rest of Spartoi listens closely to him; I'm the only one who can hear (or maybe I'm feeling it) the underlying worry and fear in his tone.

"We need to get away from here," Mason orders. Everyone blinks. "They've sent a Death Scythe. Clearly, this is out of our control, so we need to leave." Still no movement. I gather my courage and slip my hand into my meister's. He squeezes.

"Like, right-the-fuck now!" I add. The curse word breaks the tension around us, and we are all running away from the battlefield, away from the kisshin, away from fear, _away from Maka Albarn and Soul Eater._ I sigh sadly as I run at the head of the group with Mason.

"We're missing out on seeing an amazing fight," I murmur only for him. I know he understands what I'm really saying. We are missing the reunion of the greatest meister-weapon pair to ever graduate Shibusen.

I'm shocked when Mace smirks at me.

"Wh-what?" I backpedal mentally. O god, am I blushing again? Do I even have the engery for this? On second thought, at least enough blood's in my head I won't pass out.

"Keep a grip on my hand," Mason orders me (like I'm ever gonna let go again, jeez), "We'll watch through my Soul Perception." I smile at him. Even as we run, he opens his projection and resonate with him, entering his head.

The hotel is just in sight.

"Almost there!" It's Faith, screaming her joy. I'm excited too. Bed, shower...the battle comes into view in my mind's eye through Mason. We watch together as our instructor and a Death Scythe fight. I can hear muddled sounds that I assume to be them screaming at each other.

Everything goes black.

I blink out of Mace's head and realize even the area around my team is white. There is a sound like a scream. Electricity bites the air. I gasp for breath, holding onto Mason. We don't know what this is, this unending crushing feeling of static, power, and fear. It tears at my insides, makes me want to claw out my eyes. I thirst for blood. My finger tips shape into arrow heads. Strangely, through the haze, colors move around in my vision, and I hear the flapping of wings.

_What...what is this?_

Black. Endless. Maddening. Then _white._

**V.**

"Soul!" Maka screams, disabling the blades extended from her elbows. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her face shows anger, but Soul knows the red emotion is not what twists up her expression. He swings his arm, easily slicing through yet another of the kisshin-eggs. These one were really under-formed newborns. The only problem is the numbers that do not seem to stop growing. That is the reason the Death Scythe was sent, anyway.

Soul smirks, grabbing one of the previously slain kisshin egg souls and swallowing it. "Lord Death sent me." The Weapons Master's nose crinkles in displeasure.

"I can handle it, _Death Scythe_," she seethes, flicking out her wavelength and tearing through the pre-kisshin's attempting to attack her back. Soul visibly flinches at the use of his title. A blade flashes out from his heel and wrist to catch one of the kisshin-eggs in a large red X.

"Yes," the white-haired Weapon agrees, gazing at her coolly, "That's why I was sent." Maka charges forward at him, a scythe arching from her forearm. Her fist closes around the collar of his jacket and her other arms punches just past his head. The heat and energy from her crackling soul singe the ends of his hair. Her face is but a scant inch from his when the kisshin dies on the end of her blade. Another dies on the end of his he extended a breadth from her waist.

"You volunteered to come," Maka accuses. He feels the hot blade press close to his neck before she swings outward, taking out two more. "Don't fucking lie to me, Soul Eater." He grabs onto her before she can turn around and away.

"See how well you know me?" He muses. His voice is low and broken. Her tattered heart beats furiously.

"That hardly matters, Eater," The Shibusen instructor counters, her green eyes narrow. The screaming around them escalates, the kisshin-eggs pressing closer around them, the strong ones now creeping forward. It's no longer good enough to stand casually flinging blades and wavelengths around.

Soul Eater and Maka Albarn step away from each other. They fight alone, one wishing the other would leave, the other wishing the one would look at him.

Over the ringing of metal and feral growls of the monsters, Soul shouts, "This could be almost over already!" Maka doesn't look at him to respond. In fact, she doesn't respond at all.

"Isn't is supposed to be meister and Weapon fighting _together?"_ He's frustrated. She's cold.

Blood sprays in his direction from her attack. "We are not meister and weapon!" Yet, despite her proclamation, she finds herself landing perfectly against his back, barrel rolling over him, catching scythes from her ankles into a jumping kisshin-egg. Soul pivots under her, catching her wrists as her own thin fingers close over his. He spins her in a wide arc, clearing a circle of carnage for them with the blades she flashes in and out of her body. He turns, dropping his right shoulder before heaving upward, tossing the blonde meister high into the air. The rare flight-able pre-kisshin's souls float down to the ground.

Maka lands easily on a high tree branch.

Soul smirks up at her, still appearing lazy despite the quick side-steps and slashes he makes with each monster that nears him. They are thinning, less than ten remaining.

"But see how well we fight together?" He calls up to her. Maka shoots him a glare, but says nothing. She cannot deny it. "And now you'll dive forward, feign a punch to the right and kick left." On time with Soul's words, Maka completes the action, successfully killing another of the kisshin. She straightens, her face flushed with physical exertion and frustration.

"See how well I know you?" The Death Scythe adds, sliding forward on his knees, scythe raised. He comes up in front of his former meister, reaching for her hand.

"What are you trying to say, Death Scythe?" Maka pulls her fingers from his stubbornly. The demon scythe whirls, catching another kisshin-egg. The floating souls around them lit the area like some macabre tiki torches at a luau. Her face is alight with the rush of battle. She kicks once to the right. The last kisshin-egg falls. The faint red and purple glow reflects on the sweat coating their skin. Soul thinks himself damned if he doesn't find her attractive; he reasons that he still wants her, so he's safe.

Soul runs a hand through his hair. "What do you mean what am I trying to say?" He nearly shouts it, but refrains for that same low, broken voice. He looks at her face. She's not looking at him.

"You can fight it all you want, Death Scythe," Maka Albarn murmurs, pointedly looking the other direction, "But this is final."

"_What_ is?" He explodes. He paces away from her angrily. "I don't remember being a part of the decision that we couldn't be together anymore, _Maka_." She gasps almost inaudibly from his use of her name. Her heart shakes; how she'd missed the way her name sounds in his voice. She scolds herself; she cannot think like that.

"You didn't need to decide it," she counters, distractedly rolling a soul between her hands, "I did. It is what's best for us, for _you._" She turns her back to him. "My word is law, I am the Meister."

Soul laughs humorlessly. "You're no longer the meister."

Maka chokes. "H-how _dare_ you, I am-"

"At least," the Weapon interrupts, picking his scratched bike off of the ground, "You're not my meister if we're not a team." He idly scratches dirt off the handlebars.

"That's-"

"Because you don't need a weapon, right?"

"I-"

"That's why you threw me away?"

"N-"

"You don't need me anymore. You're powerful enough on your own. You will not wield me; you will not be my meister."

Maka turns back, marching to him. Too late though, he's already in her face. She breaks, "I-"

"_Isn't that what you said?" _

The following silence is heavy. The wind blows around them, carrying a thousand knives that all tear through their chests. The blonde weapons master gasps for breathe. Still, their eyes do not meet.

"Soul-"

"Do you think you have a right to call me so casually?" It's like swallowing thorns to say that, but the words come out anyway. He's breaking his own heart apart all over again; he hopes the same is happening to her. How dare she leave him? It's all he wants, to hear her say his name the same way again. Not Soul, but _Souru. _The way she called for him in anger, fear, sadness, and happiness.

"You're right," she bites back bitterly, "I have no right. I have no _reason _to call you by name, Death Scythe, sir." It's sarcastic, and it stings.

Soul barks out a dry laugh in response. "You know, it's really funny," he starts, "How utterly _stupid_ you are."

Maka slaps him.

The sound reverberates in the unnatural silence of battlefield they stand in. His cheek feels like someone has pressed a flame to it. He knows a clear red print of her hand is plainly on his face.

"You bastard," she whispers, voice dark, "Everything that happened, all of it, was for your safety." He raises an eyebrow, doubtful.

"You're unbelievable," he spits, breathing exasperatedly. Maka refuses to think of when he told her those words lovingly. "Do you really think," he continues, "that I felt _safer _without you?"

Maka crosses her arms, "Were you in more danger?" Soul wonders if he imagined the alarm in her tone.

"No," he says, "I wasn't safer, in more danger, or anything. Hell, I was just a Weapon." He stops moving. It makes his next words all the more impactful. "I was useless." Maka feels as if the wind has just been taken from her, not just knocked from her lungs.

"As long as you're safe," Maka concludes. She's flexing her fingers now, one of her signs of nerves.

"My safety means shit compared to yours!" They both freeze following the outburst. "Holy shit, Maka. I'm meant to protect you. You knew that: you know this!" He begins pacing, his arms waving about, running through his hair, jammed in his pockets, anything but motionless.

"I know you, Maka," Soul exclaims, "Probably just as well if not better than you know yourself. Regardless of what you say, all this shit about protecting me because you have your own weapon blood, I find it really hard to believe that's really why you broke us!" Maka falls to her knees shaking. She should have known. She had almost fooled herself too, and everyone else.

"I-it's true!" She defends, voice cracking, "I have my own weapon blood and then you would never have to get hurt because of me! I could, I _can_ protect myself!" There is a cold silence after her words.

"Is that the real reason, Maka?"

She doesn't answer, looking away and pretending every layer of protection she's wrapped around herself isn't being stripped away by this man she's known for more than half of her life.

"Because if it is," Soul plows on, "You yourself botched the 'keep Weapon from harm' plan."

His accusation throws her off kilter, her angry face shifting to clear confusion and blatant alarm. "Wh-what?"

Soul's voice become ice, "Do you think it doesn't kill me that you don't want me anymore?" Maka cries out, tears leaking from her eyes.

"Th-that's...that's not-!" She can't form a coherent sentence, the refined adult woman reduced to a sobbing child.

"Not what, Maka?" He sounds just as close to tears, the emotional overload smothering them both. It's then that Maka realizes she's feeling his soul. It's hopelessly entangled with hers. She panics, causing more tears. She had broken them apart! How could they still be so...entwined?

"That's not what was...I didn't mean for..." She stuttering, wringing her hands, "I don't know! I just don't know, Soul!" The wind is blowing again. The sickly red souls floating around them quiver in it. They seem to be moving toward something, but Soul Eater and Maka Albarn don't notice.

He kneels in front of her and touches the pads of his fingers to the back of her hand. "It's because of what happened." It's not a question; there's no doubt in his words, yet Maka shakes her head defiantly, lower lip trembling.

"Shit," he says. "Mother-fucking, shithead, fucktard asshole!" The volume of his cursing rises until he's practically screaming. "Maka, I am not your father!" He quiets as he says this, and his hand grips onto hers firmly.

Maka pulls away again, entangling her own fingers together. "I know that." She says it simply. Soul understands. She knows mentally, but emotionally, she's still scared.

Soul's running his hands through his hair again. "God, Maka. You...that...what we did...means so much to me." The blonde meister swears he's blushing, if only just a bit. "You're my first, y'know?" She does know. It had been after a battle, some things, wonderful things, were said, and then they were dating. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Soul had hated those terms, insisting they were partners. Maka loved them...until...

"It was the sex."

Soul hears this two ways. Either she's saying he sucked (which, it was his first time, give the guy a break!) or she was conflicted by it. Maka feels this confusion in his wavelength and holds up her hands, waving them spastically.

"Not that it was bad! N-not, umm..."

"You thought I'd gotten what I wanted." Again, not a question.

Maka looks down at her knees. "Yeah."

"So you wanted to be the one to end it before I could break your heart," Soul murmurs. It's just so like her to get an idea in her head, think too much about it, and blow up a landmine. She's crying silently now, refusing to look at him. He opens his mouth to scold her for idiocy when she begins talking instead.

"I'm so sorry, Soul." She wipes a hand across her watering eyes. He's shocked into a statue. The wind begins to blow fiercely. "I'm sorry for breaking us, and I'm sorry for taking what I had no right to." She starts to walk away, scanning the ground for the hair-ties she lost in the fight.

"Maka," the Death Scythe stands straight slowly, mentally preparing himself to face her, but as he sees the field around them, and feels the harsh wind from nowhere, he stills.

"Where are the souls?"

Maka stops. She looks around.

A violent screams rips through the air around them. Maka drops to her knees, clutching her temples and she frantically searches for something, anything, with her soul perception.

Soul makes a choking noise, grabbing onto his throat as he too falls to the ground.

"S-soul!" Maka crawls to him, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch. "Soul!" She notices a cut on one of his fingers is oozing blood. It's black.

"You seem upset, darling," Soul sneers, eyes rolling around in his head.

"Th-the blood," Maka whispers, "H-how is it...back? Soul!" The white-haired man coughs violently; tremors run through his body.

"Madness..." He hisses the word like it's ecstasy. Despite the stabbing sensation in her own head, Maka can finally make out the problem.

"Kisshin!" She cries. She wraps her fingers in her jacket. "The souls...one kisshin-egg must have eaten them all!" She opens her soul and lets the madness reach her. It's destroyed as soon as it grazes her wavelength, but more keeps coming ,emitting from the kisshin they had yet to see. "That'll make it powerful enough to-" A hand closes in a vice like grip around her bicep. "Soul!" He rolls to face her, struggling to make out words as the little demon tries to swallow him again.

"Anti...your wavelength-" Maka gets it, already enveloping his soul with her anti-demon wavelength. She thinks she hears a scream inside her head, the same timbre and atrocity as the little demon. Heavy breathing comes from Soul as he forces his body to relax back into normalcy.

"There's a kisshin," the Death Scythe states, hurrying to his feat, "Damnit, not a- Maka!" The weapon's master is standing too, her soul crackling on her fingertips.

"Go, Soul," she orders, "contact Lord Death or Kid or someone, but let them know-"

"No!" He shouts back at her, "We have to fight this thing now." The disgusting, humanoid creature wanders into view, it's face split with a horrible grin. "It's at its weakest right now!"

"Only a meister-weapon team of the highest caliber can take that thing!"

Soul growls in frustration, "We are _the _Meister-Weapon pair, Maka Albarn and Soul Eater!"

Maka steps back quickly, "No! We're not! I am not your meister, you are not my weapon!" Still, they don't look in each others' eyes.

"Maka, what is it going to take for you to get that I am still in love with you?" Soul pants hard, hand outstretched pleadingly.

Maka is shaking her head again, rejecting his words. "We probably can't even resonate anymore!" She argues. "I won't be able to hold you, and we won't be able to fight!"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Soul argues back at her in his usual unorthodox way, "We have never stopped resonating!" He's right; she knows he's right. Their souls are still so interconnected one of them would have to die and disappear for them to untangle. "I won't let us stop resonating. I love you, damnit!" He hopes the shock of his words will get to open up her hand for him, but there's no change. He doesn't expect her to return the words; she had never said them then, so she would say them now.

"Don't say that!" She screams, clutching her arms around her stomach, "The first time you said that, we-" She can't finish the sentence, blushing slightly. "And look what happened!"

The Death Scythe frantically grabs her shoulders. "None of that matters now," he yells, ignoring the pain of her denial and rejection of him. "It's in the past. Forget what I just said even, if that makes you happy! Right now, there is a full-fledged kisshin waiting to eat our souls and destroy the world with madness. For the sake of everything, Maka, please." Finally, _finally, _their eyes meet.

"_Wield me." _

**VI.**

For the longest moment, Soul thinks Maka will say no. When her hands come down on his gripping onto her shoulders, his heart sinks. He's unsure of what's happening when she holds his gaze and moves his hands from her shoulders. She holds his hands together and presses her forehead against his knuckles. He can feel her breath on his wrists. She says nothing as her expression becomes one of determination and courage.

Soul's face splits into that arrogant, shark-toothed grin as her right hand slides into his left.

The kisshin hisses in front of them. "_What are you doing, little girl? You want to play with me?" _The madness eye opens all over his body with the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

"Soul," Maka says, needlessly, "Transform." He's already in her hand, curved blade glinting dangerously. He's reflected on the flat of the black and red metal, dressed in a prim black pinstriped suit. The dark music they decided their original partnership to echoes around them. Maka shifts her hands, Soul spinning with her direction. For the first time in five years, they are complete again.

_"What a pretty soul you've got, girl." _And Maka lunges.

In all fairness, the Kisshin never stood a chance. Regardless of the break between them, Soul and Maka are still the perfect combination of defiance and raw and power. The air crackles as they move, Madness destroyed by every turn of the scythe blade and glare of the meister. There are no words as Maka spins the blade artfully, blocking the kisshin's each and every attack. They remain silent, only feeling each other as Maka dives under the kisshin, jabbing the butt of the scythe into its stomach. When the kisshin tries to separate them, Soul isn't surprised that Maka swings him over her shoulder and away into the sky, recklessly following the kisshin's wishes. The thing screams happily, licking it's lips to advance on the meister. Maka Albarn is already in front of it, blasting the monster with soul force. She kicks off its back using the thing's momentum to fling herself into the sky.

Wings appear as soon as her fingers close over Soul's handle.

_"Little bitch!" _The kisshin screams, _"Come down and let me have you!" _Maka leans forward, accelerating at break neck speeds to the ground.

Then, force of habit has her opening her mouth. "Your soul is mine!" The black and red blade glints as it tears through the kisshin's neck, blood spraying on the ground. Maka plants the head of the scythe into the thing's skull and crushes it, flipping over to land with Soul's Weapon form comfortably slung over her shoulders, feet planted shoulder-width apart.

The kisshin implodes.

Maka smirks.

Just like old times, Soul drops onto his feet from his weapon form and drags his feet toward the soul floating in midair. He slurps up a little drool before swallowing the black soul whole. He grins at Maka. She walks toward him slowly, hesitation halting her movements.

"Maka-oomph!"

She kisses him, hard. Her hands wind up and around his neck, tangling in his messy hair. He tastes of carnage, wind, and souls, but Maka can't imagine she tastes any better. His tongue slides against hers before dominating her mouth. His arms hoist her up closer to him. She wraps her legs around his waist. He squeezes her ass, she squeaks into his mouth. They don't need to part for air with their open-mouthed kisses, but they do anyway. Soul stares at her; she stares at him. Electricity passes between them.

She's crying.

"I'm sorry, Soul," she gasps, "So sorry. It was stupid, I shouldn't have...Death, I love you," she admits. He's frozen as she cries, holding her because it's all he can do. "I'm so stupid. I should have told you how much a love you too." He can feel his body waking up as if from sleep as she finally says those three words to him. "I love you so, so much. Please forgive me, Soul, I- I can't-"

"Maka." He presses a hand over her mouth. He's grinning at her. "Shut up and kiss me."

Then a genuine smile parts her lips, her eyes blazing. She smiles so hard her cheeks hurt. She draws close to him again, happiness leaking from her every pore. "Okay."

They crash together again, hands frantically roaming. Maka already has her hands on the inside of his jacket, desperate to touch him. He grips her thighs, telling her to hold on tight with her legs. She does, her sex grinding against his stomach as he shrugs out of the leather jacket and tears off his shirt for good measure. Maka's grin is catlike. She likes, much.

"Gonna strip for me, too?" Soul teases. He gets more than he bargains for when she pulls off her gloves with her teeth (he doesn't understand why that's so hot, or why it makes him want her mouth on his dick) and then unzips the corset-like top she's wearing to fling it and her coat off at the same time.

She looks good in a green bra.

He tells her this. She laughs freely, kissing him again. The swell of her chest is pressed up against his own. Soul tells her he thinks she'll look better out of her bra.

"Why don't you find out?" She winks. His mouth is instantly dry as his re-found meister plays coy with him. His pants are far too tight.

"I will," he pants back at her. His fingers fumble with the clasp at her back as their mouths meet in a flurry of kisses and moans. Maka trails her fingers over his shoulders, licking the roof of his mouth. Her light caresses move to his stomach as he finally pulls that damned green thing off her body. It drops to the muddy forest floor the moment her hands make contact with the thick, ropy scar marring his torso. He shivers, his legs refusing to hold them up. Maka notices and releases her hold around his waist, letting them drop softly to the damp forest floor.

Soul let's out an appreciative growl as the new position brings him face to face with her breasts. Maka follows his gaze and sudden lack of response and crosses her arms.

Soul sighs, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. Her back is forced to arch, her chest pushed out toward his smirking mouth.

"Thought we took care of this five years ago?" He teases, tongue slipping out to run languidly in the valley of her breasts. Maka squirms. "Because, Maka, these are beautiful." And then he takes a nipple between his teeth, tugging playfully.

"Oh..._haah,_" The meister fails to express coherent words. Soul's hand not holding her wrists slides up her sides before grabbing onto her other breast, fondling it. She can feel her nipples extend with the pleasure. "_Nnng..." _She pulls her knees up, her legs falling open. Soul settles between her legs, releasing her breasts to watch her face as he grinds the rough material of his jeans against her panty-clad sex. His actions allow them to watch each other as the motion brings a spike of pleasure and arousal to their systems. They're sweating, both from heat and excitement.

"So sexy," Soul whispers against Maka's lips before bringing her into another kiss. Their resonance rate climbs steadily. The world around them fades away, the rain forest forgotten.

"S-soul," Maka pants between kisses, "Let go of my hands." He doesn't question her command, merely gives a kiss to each wrist before releasing the appendages. He's rewarded instantly as she wastes no time tugging off his belt and unzipping his pants.

"Someday," she informs him, attaching her mouth to his neck, "I'll do that with my teeth." The notion alone causes a low groan to rumble in Soul's chest, his arms barely supporting his body as she teases his flesh with her mouth and slides her hands under the waist-band of his boxers. She draws up her feet, her combat boots still on, and shoves Soul's pants and boxers down. His erection springs free, already weeping pre-come.

There's a small tearing sound.

Soul holds up her shredded underwear with a lecherous grin. "Won't be needing these." Maka flicks his stomach, watching the muscles there ripple with the stimulation appreciatively.

"Already got rid of yours," Maka gasps, tightening her legs around his hips, "Stop stalling."

"M'not-" And instead of arguing with her (because he'll never win, anyway), Soul decides to snap his hips forward, plunging inside her dripping pussy. He moves hard and fast, his cock twitching as her velvet walls pull at him. It's not really vanilla sex like their first time, but the chorus of moans and mews Maka makes as he pounds into her encourages Soul to forget that this, their second time, is a desperate fuck. He needs to stop thinking before he degrades this moment into something like dirt. Maka seemingly agrees as she tells him to shut up in her head and drags his mouth to hers.

He's bigger than she remembers, but she carefully hides this thought from him for fear of ego-inflation. She supposes that it's normal for a man leaving a teenagers body. It feels _good. _He catches this thought from her.

"You have no idea," he grunts in enthusiastic agreement. He loops her long legs over his shoulders, tilting her hips higher in the air and sliding in that extra inch.

Maka screams.

"_Souru!" _His nerves light on fire. How long he'd waited for her to call him like that again. How much he'd yearned to have her again. And now here he is.

They move together, hips rocking against each other, occasionally grinding together as Soul moved harder against her. She's become a sobbing mess, her body wracked with pleasure. "_Mmph...ngaa!" _They don't know whose moan is whose, or where their bodies become their own, but they don't care. They place sporadic kisses on each other's necks and shoulders. Tongues meeting in wet, smoldering kisses.

He can feel his muscles tightening, little tremors running along his body and numbing his toes. _Close. _Maka shares the feeling.

"Kiss me again," she demands breathlessly, bucking her hips up into him.

"_Uunngh," _he responds, meeting her open mouth. Her skirts bounces around her waist with their movements. It's erotic. _So hot..._Stars dance behind his eyelids as he comes. It's explosive, it's like returning home after a long mission, it's like...

"_Haah, Souru!" _Her breathy shout signals her end. She's been flung to the moon and back with no regret of returning to see those red eyes beside her, looking the same way they had five years ago: In love. He's grinning stupidly, and she can't poke fun because she looks the same way.

Soul studies her carefully, almost afraid she'll run away again. She's red-faced and exhausted, sweaty and covered in mud, and she's got leaves tangled up in her rat's nest hair, and she couldn't be more beautiful. He admires the bite mark that's so clearly his on her neck.

_Not running,_ Maka sends him through the bond. They're still resonating. _Not again._ She gives him a mischievous glance. "Though, _technically, _it was you who ran away." She's referring to how she kicked him out, taking the apartment as solely hers. How is that fair?

He growls and lunges at her, tackling her back to the ground. "Shut it." He sounds dangerous, but she knows he just wants an excuse to kiss her again. So when he does, she doesn't complain.

"C'mon," he says after breaking away, not quite releasing her from his hold, "We should head back. Spartoi and shit to deal with." Maka offers a shaky 'yeah', but doesn't move.

"Maka?"

She blushes, looking away indignantly. "I don't think I can stand." He laughs whole-heartedly, reveling in the feeling of having these moments with her again.

"Hmm, I must've gotten real good as this sex thing," he provokes her without shame. She _'hmph'_s and stand, stalking away from him toward her clothes. Just to be safe, he sends her message that says she's his only. She sends an 'I know' back while adjusting her skirt. They dress in silence, though they are not silent. In their heads they chat about anything that comes to mind, so great is their relief of being whole again. He's struggling with his shirt (which he shredded in his haste) when Maka says something out loud. Soul almost flinches, expecting continued silence.

"These are ruined," Maka scowls, picking up the muddy and shredded underwear she had worn before this whole escapade started. Soul glances over to the mess of fabric she's dangling off a finger and laughs.

Suddenly, he's got a hand over his eyes and he's groaning.

"Soul?" Maka intones, an eyebrow raised, "What's wrong?"

He merely groans again. "You're going commando." His voice seems oddly tight to her ears. She mutters a sarcastic affirmative, ranting about how it's his fault anyway that she's missing her underwear so he shouldn't be pointing out things that are already making her feel socially awkward. She's just not getting it.

Soul's frustration, both in exasperation and sexually, is clear in his next words. "How do you expect me to _not_ think about the things we could do with you commando in a skirt?"

Somehow, though there's no book within a mile radius of her, Maka manages to Maka-Chop her Weapon into unconsciousness, and all is right with the their world.

**VII.**

"First day of school after missions sucks!" Mace declares, allowing the door to the classroom to slam shut behind us. I don't really care, because I agree with him. Though we hadn't finished the fight, and had flown home with a tight-lipped Instructor Albarn, the jet lag is murder on our brains. Plus, let's not forget, the black-out-white-out.

After a minute, Mason had figured out what it was. Let me just say, that is the strongest evil wavelength I have ever felt followed by _the strongest resonance in the world. _No kidding. The resonance rate was far past one-hundred percent, according to Mace. I mean, it turned the area of Brazil we were in _white. _I'm fairly convinced the resonance by itself could have killed off all those kisshin-eggs we were facing. Need to stop thinking. My head hurts.

"SOUL-FUCKIN'-EATER!" And then there's Black*Star. It's not that he's been around a lot or anything, but this random shout just about killed me. He's loud, dude, so frickin' loud.

Then I realize what he said.

"Death Scythe Soul Eater is here?" I whisper to Mason. He shakes his head, just as confused. We simultaneously decide to round the corner and see for ourselves what the hooplah is all about. If nothing else, if Black*Star is there, it's bound to be entertaining.

"SOUL, MAN, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" I think my ears are bleeding. "I MISSED YOU! YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HERE SINCE MAKA..." He trails off before screaming twice as loud:

"MAKA?" There she is, my idol, standing next to the Death Scythe. _What happened? _I think to Mason over the link.

"They're holding hands," he answers out loud. I glance in between the graduated meister and Weapon and gasp. Mace is right.

Then I feel a hand slip into mine. I jump, looking up quizzically at my meister.

"No need to get jealous," he says calmly. This guy is a nightmare on my nerves. Seriously.

Black*Star is screaming again. "HOLY SHIT! YOU TWO ARE..." I watch in horror as a lecherous grin crawls onto his face. His partner, the beautiful Tsubaki Nakatsukasa is already blushing beside him. "How was the make-up sex?" Thank Death he had the decency to use his inside voice for that one. It's better that not all of Death City knows about the affairs of Maka Albarn and Soul Eater.

Instructor Albarn blushes forty shades of red.

I see a book embed itself in the assassin's skull. I wonder where it came from. I'm not saying that sarcastically. I really don't understand where ammunition for a Maka-Chop comes from. There's never a book in her hand before there's one in the target's skull!

Soul Eater is laughing, holding his stomach. Maka Albarn turns to him, and I assume she's threatening him too. Instead he reaches a hand into her hair and tugs her to him, kissing her on the mouth in the middle of the DWMA.

Cheers and cat-calls and wolf-whistles rise around the hallways. The loudest cheerleader of all of the students there is me because watching that, how natural their kiss looks, I realize it too. I think that man Soul Eater always knew it, even as he's Maka-Chopped for his stunt.

Maka Albarn and Soul Eater...well, despite what I promised Instructor Albarn, I hope Mason and I turn out like them, 'cause that's for real. A genuine happy-fuckin'-ever-after. Yeah, I'm jealous. They are _meant to be._ Lucky bastards.

A pair of lips descend on mine.

"Wh-what?"

Mason smirks at me. "You're cute when you're jealous, Kea."

This time, I grab his ski-goggles (knew those would come in handy) and pull his mouth to mine. When we part, Maka Albarn is looking at me knowingly. I blush. She winks.

"Keagan," Mace laughs, grabbing my hand, "You're clashing with your hair again."

Fuck 'em, really.

**And fin! the curtain falls. Thank you so much for reading. Leave a review, favorite, or flame. It doesn't matter to me. If you feel so obliged, please let me know what you thought of my OCs and the outsider view thing. Oh, and the sex. Let me know how I did on the sex. Sorry, it wasn't a romantic, happy-to-be-alive-and-finally-reunited muddy ground sex doesn't really get that connotation.**

**Yours,**

**Cori Redde **


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